HEN Walter Scott introduced himself to George Forrester, a Pittsburgh clergyman and schoolmaster, who had his own academy, he was greeted warmly. His name had been made famous by the contemporary Scottish novelist and poet.

      The inevitable question, asked by his host, was one to which the young teacher had long been accustomed: "Are you and the poet related?"

      "Yes," he replied, "we are both members of the Scott Clan. The poet belongs to the House of Hardin. I am of the House of Thirstane. There is, also, the Ducal House, with Duke Becleugh at its head. His name is also Walter Scott!"¹

      Walter Scott was born in the town of Moffatt, county Dumfriesshire, Scotland, October 31, 1796. His mother had been Mary Innes. She was a most sensitive and loving wife and mother. Deeply religious, she clung without wavering or question to the strict principles of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. His father, John Scott, was a music teacher by profession. He was a friendly, religious man of refinement and culture. His meager earnings from the teaching of music were stretched out to meet the demands of a large family, for John and Mary Scott had ten children. This happy brood was exactly balanced, there being five sons and five daughters! Walter was the fourth son and the sixth child.

      Walter had soon displayed both brilliance and reverence, and his parents cherished him for the [18] Presbyterian, ministry. To this end they had scraped and saved until he could be sent to Edinburgh to stay with his aunt and attend the university. He entered the college of arts in 1810, when he was fourteen, the usual age for going to the university.

      His name was already well known at Edinburgh. Two young men of that name had matriculated in 1808, one in the arts and one in law. A Walter Scott had also entered in 1809! Still another was taking the first-year course in 1817.² Walter Scott, the poet and novelist, had attended there two decades earlier and was living in the city at this very time. His widely popular Lay of the Last Minstrel had been published in 1805. Marmion, released from the press in 1808, possessed such infectious rhythms that its lines were quoted everywhere, and The Lady of the Lake appeared in 1810, while young Walter was in his first-year course.

      Even at this time, the name of Walter Scott was ancient. Sir Walter was proud of his lineage, and he often spoke and wrote about it:

      My father's grandfather was Walter Scott, well known by the name of Beardie. He was the second son of Walter Scott, first laird of Raeburn, who was third son of Sir Walter Scott, and the grandson of Walter Scott, commonly called in tradition Auld Watt of Harden.³

Thus for eight generations, this name had rung in the ears of Scotsmen!

      Edinburgh's first-year course was not an easy one. It comprised five assigned subjects: Latin, Greek, logic, mathematics, and moral philosophy. In addition to these studies at the university, Walter kept up his music. He took instruction on the flute from the former master of the military band which had [19] accompanied Sir Ralph Abercrombie on his expedition to Egypt. So apt a pupil was the young student that he soon surpassed his teacher and became the most accomplished flutist in Edinburgh.

      He was also a talented singer, but his natural shyness eschewed vocal solos in public. On at least one occasion, however, he scaled this barrier. This was on New Year's morning, 1812, when he was sixteen years old. It happened during the traditional customs of greeting the New Year.

      According to these customs, Scots used to watch the new year in at the home of their friends. At midnight, with the stroke of twelve, the guests rose, drank a few toasts, and shook hands all around as they gave utterance to their New Year's wish: "May the year that's awa' he the warst o' our lives."

      As the company broke up, there often arose out of the animated talking a curious question: "I wonder who will be our first foot?" The first visitor to cross the threshold of a home on New Year's Day bore this graphic title. As "first foot" he stamped the luck of the year upon the whole household. This tradition filled the streets on New Year's Eve with happy, holiday crowds. Each person was intent on becoming "first foot" in the house of some friend.

      On this particular New Year's, Walter and his brother James had crossed the old Edinburgh bridge to put "first foot" in the house of a friend. They had recrossed the bridge on their way home when James missed his brother. Judging the crowds to be too thick for a search, he went on without him. But Walter did not come. Propelled by mounting fear, James raced back along the still crowded streets to the bridge. There a knot of rapt people was [20] gathered. Out of its midst issued Walter's clear, rich voice singing one of Old Scotia's songs. Wondering why his bashful brother had suddenly become a street minstrel at midnight, he edged his way into the circle until he could see for himself. In after years, James delighted to tell the story:

      The young singer was standing upon the stone steps of one of the shops near the bridge, and a step or two below him stood a blind beggar holding out his hat to receive the pennies which ever and anon in the intervals between the songs the crowd would bestow. All day long the blind man had sat and begged, and knowing that the street would be crowded that night even more than it had been during the day, he hoped that night would yield him the charity which he had implored almost in vain through the livelong day. But the crowds were intent on pleasure and friendly greetings, and few responded to the appeal of him to whom day brought no light, and whose night was no darker than his day. Young Walter drew near, and his heart was touched by his mute imploring, look, which had taken the place of the almost useless appeal, "Give a penny to the blind man." He had neither gold nor silver to give, but he stopped and inquired as to his success, and found that few had pitied and relieved his wants. His plan was formed in a moment; he took his place by the beggar's side and began singing in a voice shrill and sweet, a strain which few Scotchmen could hear unmoved. The steps of nearly all who passed that way were arrested; soon a crowd gathered, and when the song ended he made an appeal for pennies, which brought a shower of them, mingled now and then with silver, such as never had fallen into the blind man's hat before. Another and another song was called for, and at the close of each the finger of the singer pointed significantly, and not in vain, to the blind man's hat; and thus he sang far into the night; and when he ceased, the blind beggar implored heaven's richest blessings on the head of the youthful singer, and bore home with him the means of support and comfort for many a coming day.⁴ [21]

      After his university days, the most exciting event that happened in young Scott's life was the arrival of a letter from America. This message from the other side of the Atlantic was from his mother's brother, George Innes, who had served in the United States Customs Service under Madison and was fortunate enough to retain his post when the administration changed with Monroe in 1817.

      The letter carried a suggestion which set the Scott household to talking, for "Uncle George" had invited his sister to send one of her boys to America, promising to do all he could to gain a footing for him and to secure the way to his advancement.

      The family fell in at once with George Innes' kind offer. It was decided that Walter was the one to go. He was the most talented of the sons and he was also the best educated. When making his way among the many hazards and surprises of America, Walter, it seemed to them, would find himself best equipped to survive and prosper.

      Wrenching himself free of the bonds of tender affection which drew him toward parents, brothers, and sisters, Walter set his face toward America. He sailed from Greenock on "The Glenthorn" and arrived safely in New York Harbor July 7, 1818. [22]

[WSVGO 18-22]